Mōsō
妄想
His eyelids were red, so the light must be bright, Ichigo reasoned. Maybe that was why he hadn't opened his eyes yet? Yeah, that would make sense – why else would he have his eyes closed?
Ichigo forced them open, blinking as the fluorescent lights blinded him, dots of red and orange obstructing his vision. There were murmurs of relief around him and he looked around, eyes landing on a worried Tatsuki, her helmet held tightly by her gloved hands, her lips bitten red. On his other side, the karate sensei smiled reassuringly.
"You're awake, that's good. How are you feeling? Does it hurt anywhere?"
Ichigo struggled to move, pushing himself into a seated position with some help from his sensei. The back of his head smarted a bit, and his joints were sore, but that was it. He reported that, and his sensei nodded.
"The soreness is a result of being unconscious for so long. And your head, well." He glanced at Tatsuki, whose face reddened even as she starting biting her lip again. "You hit it when you fell."
"Wha!" Ichigo gasped, turning to point a finger at the girl. "You knocked me unconscious!?" he floundered. Tatsuki, looked away from him, fidgeting, then scowled at him.
"I didn't mean to!" she retorted. "I only hit you, like, slightly harder than usual. It's your own fault for being such a lightweight!"
"Now, now," their sensei interjected before another fight could start. "No one's been seriously hurt, so lets just put this behind us, alright you two?"
They scowled at each other for another moment, then nodded tightly. "Okay," they chorused glumly.
"Now, Ichigo, I'm going to have you sit out for a bit – only a few minutes! – until I'm sure you're able to continue," the man frowned at him, his worry obvious. "That was a hard hit, and you're going to be disorientated even if you don't have a concussion. Let it wear off before you go back at it, alright?"
Ichigo voiced his agreement again, just as glumly, and let himself be steered to the bench attached to the wall.
After the required few minutes – which felt way longer – he was allowed to do some basic exorcises, just to be sure he had his balance back. After that proved positive, he put his helmet back on and stood opposite Tatsuki once more.
This time, the lesson progressed like it usually did, with Tatsuki systematically beating him at every stance he tried. Just when his eyes were starting to sting and he was ready to plop down and give up for the day, the doors to the dojo opened, the sound of rain louder for the first time in hours.
His mother stood in the doorway, smiling at him, and Ichigo could do nothing but return it, even as Tatsuki jeered at him for being a mama's boy. Ichigo didn't care what she said – his mother was the best, and if that meant he liked being around her, then so be it. There was nothing wrong with that.
Ichigo shrugged on his raincoat and stuffed his feet into his boots, and left the dojo with his mother. It was still raining like it'd been at noon, when his lesson started, if not more so than before. He could barely see the sidewalk, but Masaki walked easily, holding his hand and guiding him along.
There was really nothing unusual about this, since it did rain a lot in Karakura town, but there was... something strange. Ichigo couldn't pinpoint it, but something about this day was familiar. And there was something about it that made him dread the next few minutes, even if he didn't know what he was dreading.
When they passed the river, the feeling increased. Ichigo glanced down at the shore, and his heart sputtered. Standing at the edge, her legs soaked by the raging current, was a girl only a little bit older than him. Staring at her, he felt the contrasting feelings of fear for her safety and the need to drag her away from the water, as well as an absolute panic at the possibility of doing so.
But why wouldn't he try and save her? He had to – he couldn't let her drown!
"Mom," he gasped, pulling on her hand as he pointed the girl out. His mother glanced down, gasped, and hugged him a little closer to her side. But, no, that wasn't what she needed to do – she needed to help him save her!
Ichigo wrestled himself from her grip, falling and skidding down the incline to the riverbed, ignoring how she cried out for him to come back.
Several things happened in the next few seconds. Ichigo ground to a halt a couple meters from the shore, his chest tightening to the point of pain. Something howled in his mind and he shouted with it, hands clawing at his head. The girl at the waters edge vanished from view, a hulking white form taking her place. As it advanced, Masaki ran towards him, shouting something Ichigo couldn't hear over his screams and the screams in his mind.
Arms grabbed him, and the rain sliced at his face when they moved, running at speeds he never thought possible. They were away from the river and at their house in seconds, stumbling through the door as their pace suddenly slowed down.
The raging storm in his mind quieted to a light rain, and Ichigo could think again.
And beside him, just as the rest of the Kurosaki family rushed into the kitchen, Masaki fell into a dead faint.
At the hospital, Ryūken himself told them that she was fine, alive, but wouldn't wake. A coma, he said, trying to hide how much it affected him, how it was almost as hard for him as it was for Isshin.
Ichigo held his sisters close to him as they pleaded, uncomprehending, for their mother to come back. Why wasn't she out here; why did she leave?
My fault, Ichigo thought, and clung to his sisters even more. If I hadn't– if I'd known–
But what if's wouldn't change the past. The storm in his head, still there, still raging, agreed and tried to push him away from guilt. Ichigo wouldn't let it.
It was my fault.
Nothing anyone did in the following years would wake her from her coma.
When Ichigo was twelve, he entered Karakura Junior High.
Three weeks into the school term, he got into his first fight. It was over his hair color – natural, damn it! – with taunts about his mother thrown in as flavor.
Needless to say, the bullies lost, though Ichigo didn't come out completely unscathed.
Over the next three years, he trained, the forms he needed coming to him easier than he thought they would, and the strength he needed seemingly at his beck and call. It made him wonder, and on the few days when his walk home was calm, Ichigo poked at the feeling of unease that hadn't left him since that karate lesson when had Tatsuki knocked him out.
He didn't know what was going on, but somewhere deep inside him, he knew something bad was going to happen.
(or was it that something bad had happened?)
When Ichigo was fifteen, his world flipped upside down.
"It's near," was the first thing the strangely dressed girl said after she calmly walked through his wall. She scanned his room with a small frown, brow scrunched up. Her hand fell to the blade at her side like she was scared and needed the reassurance.
Ichigo felt tempted to kick her for ignoring him in his own room, but after his first indignant (and ignored) protest, the usual storm had broken out in his mind. He winced, hands flying to his forehead.
"There's... something blocking me," the girl continued to murmur, ignorant to Ichigo's current predicament, though he did see her send him a concerned glance when her eyes passed over him. Her eyes quickly came back to him when he felt something – the buzz that always existed around him – flicker with his turmoil. Her eyes widened. "Is it... you?
"Can you see me?" she asked, louder and actually directed towards him. The storm fell to a simmer quiet enough for him to look at her and nod.
"Yeah? What of it?" he growled, fighting past his headache. The girl opened her mouth to speak again, but something roared outside, loud enough that she faltered and looked in its direction with a touch of fear in her eyes.
"How is it so close!" she gasped. A second later, she was racing out his door, hopping down the stairs with her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw at a moments notice.
Ichigo followed her, dread and a feeling like deja vu turning his blood to ice.
Downstairs, the first thing he saw was the new hole in the living room wall, a giant monster standing on the street beyond it.
(The girl at the waters edge vanished from view, a hulking white form taking her place.)
Ichigo shook his head, and his eyes shifted to land on its hand, clawed to keep a better hold on the child struggling in its grip.
Yuzu! Ichigo tried to scream, but his throat wouldn't work, no sound would come out. A flash of black beside him and the girl from his room darted forward, sword out and swinging to cleave the monsters arm off.
Ichigo caught his sister as the arm dissolved into black mist, and he placed her next to the unconscious bodies of her twin and their father. Neither of them were hurt, thankfully, only knocked out from the energy the monster gave off, or as a result of the wall caving in.
A pained cry drew his attention and he watched helplessly as the girl impacted against a telephone pole, her arm bloody. Her sword fell to the pavement with a clatter, her fingers spasming against the hilt.
The storm came back, a feeling that was almost a voice screaming save her! Ichigo surged forward, instinct driving him, and a feeling like falling into water surrounded him.
The next second, he stood on the other side of the monster – a Hollow, the voice that wasn't a voice told him – a pitch black Khyber knife in his hand. An unused trench knife, wrapped in black bandages, lay on the right side of his waist.
Behind him, the monster dissolved into mist and the girl gasped in disbelief. "How did you do that?" she wheezed, left hand clamped over her right shoulder as she tried to stem the bleeding. There was a pale green glow about her fingers, almost invisible in the night.
Ichigo looked down at the blade, at the black clothing adorning him that matched the girl's – Shinigami, the voice whispered. Rukia – and blinked up at her.
"I– don't know," he admitted haltingly. But it felt right, the storm in his mind calm, even though another part of him was freaking out. A glance at the broken wall of his house confirmed another fact – his body lay crumpled on the sidewalk like a puppet with its strings cut. The sight didn't bother him, oddly enough. Even though it should – 'am I dead?' he asked the voice, receiving silence as an answer – it seemed so normal. Like he was used to it.
"What are you?" Rukia whispered. Ichigo flinched at her tone, shifting his blade so it was against his back, and let go when he felt more than saw the bandages appear to secure it.
"I don't know," he repeated against the storm, wandering back to and entering his body like second nature. He stood up, glanced at her sadly, and returned to his home.
He wouldn't be able to fix the wall, but the least he could do was move his family further into the house.
The next few months were painful. Between the storm in his head that wouldn't leave and couldn't be reduced by painkillers, seeing Rukia hurt his heart in a way he couldn't understand. She insisted on following him, watching him, even as she continued with her original job here. So she was always around, and Ichigo always felt like something was missing in their interaction.
Occasionally, Ichigo would leave his body and join her patrol, though in different parts of Karakura. Destroying Hollows was easy and quick, and Ichigo went about it like he'd done so for years. The two of them made quick work of all the Hollows that thought Karakura town was a good place to come to, and they became closer, became something like friends.
Logically, Ichigo knew this was the first time they'd met and that this was the first time they'd become friends, but in the back of his mind, the feeling that was almost a voice told him that it was again and hit him with nostalgia whenever he saw Rukia trying to fit in with his human friends.
And, after she left back to Soul Society, he dreamed of things that couldn't be. He dreamed of a dark hole, of training, of cannon balls and streets that looked like they came out of the feudal era. He dreamed of birds made of fire, of yellow beams of light and tears in the sky with white faces staring down at them all.
The next school term, after a summer where every day felt like it was missing something, there was a new student in Rukia's place, a blond who smiled like the Cheshire and carried a live sword like it was a bokken.
Shinji, the voice told him, seconds before the man introduced himself, and the familiarity washed over Ichigo, stronger than before. They shook hands, and Shinji commented on how they would be great friends.
Again, the voice said.
Ichigo couldn't help but agree.
Later, in the giant cavern below the warehouse Shinji's group – the Vizards. Comrades – lived in, Ichigo trained. His dual wielding took many of the Vizards by surprise – only Shunsui, the voice murmured – but they got over it, and pushed him as far as he could go, made him rely on his instincts just to stay alive, and soon, he was falling into himself, even as his body kept fighting.
He landed on the side of a skyscraper, darkened clouds floating sideways, threatening rain.
"Finally," a deep voice breathed, relieved, and Ichigo turned to look at–
"Ossan?" he asked. His brow furrowed as his mind churned, the storm threatening to come back to fore. Above them, the clouds moved faster, accumulating and darkening even more. His inner world fell into shadow. "What– what's going on?"
"The bastard caught us," Zangetsu growled, jumping from another building to this one, hands clenched and teeth bared in a snarl. His golden eyes flashed as thunder rumbled through Ichigo's mindscape.
Like trying to hold onto mist, Ichigo remembered a battle; desperation and the need to protect his friends and allies. Ossan placed his hand on Ichigo's shoulder and the memories cleared, suddenly there.
"Aizen!"
"Your strength is admirable," the traitor acceded, stepping towards him with his sword held loosely at his side. His clothes were immaculate, though Ichigo's own were tattered and bloodied. His hand trembled around Zangetsu's hilt, Ossan left at his side once he needed two hands to hold the Khyber blade. Strength, Ichigo scoffed bitterly. What strength did he have now?
"But, as always, it is not enough," Aizen continued, only he wasn't in front of Ichigo anymore. Now, he was behind him, and when Ichigo turned, tried to dart away with tired Shunpo, the hilt of Kyōka Suigetsu cracked against his temple and everything went away.
Ichigo gasped, falling to his knees. But even without Ossan's hand on his shoulder, his memories were still there, as clear as if he was living them.
Ichigo woke to white walls, white floors, white everything. It was blinding, but when he tried to cover his eyes with his hands, he found himself restrained, shackled to the wall and forced to kneel.
Blank eyes blinked at him from behind a solid white mask. Once certain that he was awake, the hollow – Arrancar? – turned away and whistled a few short notes towards the door. Another one answered in kind. Ichigo heard footsteps moving away, and felt his stomach sink.
Where else would a guard be going, but to retrieve his captor?
The minutes crawled by, and Ichigo tried to ignore the silent Arrancar as it stared at him. Every time he shifted, the Hollow would hiss at him, and Ichigo would still, his heart skipping with– but he'd left fear behind, so that couldn't be what he was feeling, no matter how close it was.
Then, so much later, the door to his cell opened, and Aizen himself stepped inside. Ichigo watched as the Arrancar bowed and left, closing the door behind it with an echoing, damning, click.
"I do hope the accommodations are to your liking," Aizen said, voice honey sweet and choking the air Ichigo tried to breath. "I had this room made up just for you, you see, and I would hate for it to be unappreciated."
Ichigo couldn't speak, his throat tight with rage and hate and– yes, that was fear. Damn it.
"It's alright," Aizen crooned, standing by the chair the Arrancar had used. "You don't need to say anything. I know how hard it can be to think in my presence."
Get on with it! Ichigo wanted to shout, but his voice wouldn't cooperate.
Aizen, as if hearing his words, smiled, his hand falling to the sword at his side. "You are a very interesting human, Kurosaki Ichigo. I hope you realize that. And I hope you appreciate all the effort I make for you."
Ichigo watched, frozen and helpless, as Aizen unsheathed his sword and pointed it at him.
"You are also the only thing that stands between me and the Soul King, so I hope you don't take this as an insult. It's a compliment, really. No one else has ever pushed me this far.
"Don't worry, Kurosaki. My Arrancar will make sure your body is kept alive. After all, you won't be leaving here for a very long time."
Aizen dipped his sword, the tip almost touching where Ichigo's heart was. And then–
"Bankai."
There were arms around him. Ichigo didn't care whose they were, though he could see white through the slits his eyes had closed to. He buried his face into their chest, clung to their shirt like a lifeline, and was clung to in turn. He shuddered, eyes dry for all that he felt like this would be an appropriate time to cry. He hadn't cried since his mother died – he wouldn't let this break him enough to start again.
"How long?" he croaked, pulling back slightly from Zangetsu, and the spirit let him, but kept a grip on his shoulders all the same. Ichigo didn't complain – he needed the grounding touch.
"Time in his final release runs at the same speed as in the real world," Ossan reported after a long moment. His voice was hesitant, and his eyes wary when Ichigo looked up at him.
"So..." Ichigo swallowed, closing his eyes. "Since that day in karate?" He could still remember it, but this time, there was another experience laying over it. One, where Tatsuki had beaten him like she always did, and the lesson ended with tears. Two, where her strength had gotten away from her, and she'd knocked him out.
His awakening had been the beginning of the hypnosis. Everything else that followed had been a lie.
"Six years," he breathed, scrunching his eyes even tighter. The arms around him squeezed, and Ichigo pressed his face into Zangetsu's chest again, uncaring of how weak he looked right now. He had that right.
"Yes," Ossan murmured despondently.
"And Aizen–" Ichigo croaked in an aborted question.
"We don't know, King," Zangetsu told him, voice loud next to his ear. "We couldn't see anything but the illusion."
"The voice," Ichigo mumbled, "the storm. That was you?"
"We had to keep pushin'. Anything to wake you up."
"It was the Vizards that ended up sending you back to us," Ossan said. "Their way of training, even in a dream, is very... harsh."
"I'll have to thank them, if I ever–" Ichigo cut off, taking in a shaking breath.
Six years. Six years, during which so many battles had raged, all without him there to help the fight. All with Aizen at the forefront, fighting against the people who could never hope to match his strength.
"I need to get back," Ichigo said urgently, pulling away and standing shakily, almost falling back down if it wasn't for Ossan's hand on his shoulder. "I have to– they need–"
"Coming here broke the hypnosis," Ossan assured him. "When you leave, you will go back to the real world. We will make up for the strength you have lost during your imprisonment."
"Thanks," Ichigo managed, gratitude in his eyes as he looked at them both. Zangetsu nodded, grin coming back.
"Now get outta here," he ordered, "and kick their asses for ever thinkin' they could keep ya down."
"Yeah," Ichigo agreed.
And then, after a moment of concentration, Ichigo opened his eyes.
Notes: I have a doc that's just tilted "plot bunnies". One of them was "groundhog day" and I figured I'd try it. Threw in some Aizen induced angst for fun.
The AU of this is that Aizen didn't go all fusion crazy with the Hogyoku, but Ichigo did do his three month dangai training. He just... never got to use Mugetsu, and eventually his soul split back into three or something (I'm hazy on the details myself, really). Aizen managed to escape or something and– you know what? I should just shut up. I'll get into this in future chapters.
Also the fact that Ichigo has his true Zanpakutō. I will get into that. So, er, spoilers for the last hundred or so chapters of Bleach? We've known this new stuff since sometime in 2013... Whatever. Hope you liked this bit of a rambling thing and stay tuned for whenever I continue it.